


new year's day

by titasjournal



Category: Harrison Ford - Fandom, Star Wars RPF, carrie fisher - Fandom, carrison - Fandom
Genre: Songfic, Taylor Swift - Freeform, and fluff, and luuuuurve, but also sass, carrison, lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titasjournal/pseuds/titasjournal
Summary: carrie fisher is throwing a new year’s eve party and a certain movie star shows up. featuring friendship and a lot of sass. set during the 80s.





	new year's day

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for Ashley’s ( @hansoloorgana ) birthday but only decided to post now (seems fitting huh?). yes, this is based off of taylor swift’s song by the same name.

December 31st 1987, 11:46 PM

It’s hot in the living room, terribly humid. Loud, crowded. It’s hot because of the insane amount of people that showed up to Carrie’s New Year’s party. It’s loud because of the shouting of incoherent lyrics to OMD’s _If You Leave_.

“Hey, Carrie!” Meryl shouts through the blasting music. “Hell of a party!”

“Thanks!” she shouts back, before being tugged away from her friend. That’s how the night’s been going, always off to mingle with the guests, the ever-entertaining host.

 _I Wanna Dance With Somebody_ starts playing on the stereo and her entire apartment lights up, all the guests dancing and singing along very tipsily.

Carrie lives for this. Stepping back from the crowd, she observes everyone. Beautiful women in glittery dresses and pink eyelids, handsome movie stars that clean up oh-so-well.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a voice calls from behind her. She turns around, tilting the champagne flute slightly.

“Babe,” Carrie smiles, pulling Jeremiah into a chaste kiss. He kisses her back, still the shy, guarded way you’d kiss someone who you’ve only been dating for a few weeks.

“We can dance if you want to,” he suggests.

“Sure.” She leads them to the middle of the crowd, moving frantically to the rythym of the song.

 _I want this_ , she tells herself. She wanted someone who liked her enough to kiss her on new year’s eve, she wanted so desperately not to be alone during the holidays.

“Carrie, I think someone’s calling for you,” Jeremiah jolts her up from her reverie. He then points to the big glass windows by the fireplace, the silver shine streaching to the city.

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Come, I want to intrduce you to someone.”

She grips his hand tightly, which he notices worryingly. Zigzagging through the crowd until she reaches him.

“Harrison,” even though her voice is barely audible , she startles him. “Good of you to come.”

“Yes, just in time for midnight.” He smiles, relaxed. A part of her is incredulous.

“So,” Jeremiah strats, nudging Carrie.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She smiles apologetically. “Harrison, this is Jere.” The men shake hands. “Jere, this is Harrison Ford.” She avoids his gaze.

“Pleasure to meet you, man!” Jeremiah offers with a confident stance. He’s no stranger to affair rumours between Carrie and Harrison, so he reckons a strong expression is the way to go.

“Sure, pleasure.” Harrison replies. “Carrie, meet Lauren.” He then continues. Only now does Carrie actually register the existence of a blond _Lauren_ at Harrison’s side.

“Hello,” Carrie steps forward. “Nice to meet you.” They share their respective hello’s and Carrie actually dislikes her even more for her likable-ness.

_Ten!_

“See ya!” Carrie shouts, leading Jeremiah to wherever the champagne was being distributed.

_Nine!_

She fills up both their flutes and clinks them.

_Eight!_

Her new boyfriend smiles widely at her, but his eyes don’t crinkle.

_Seven!_

No, they don’t crinkle like Harrison’s. And the grin, it’s not the same grin she fell asleep thinking about for so damn long.

_Six!_

Jeremiah grips her waist tightly, forcing her gaze onto his. She doesn’t oblige.

_Five!_

She doesn’t oblige because her gaze is elsewhere. Searching for Harrison, telepathically begging him to look at her too.

_Four!_

He does! They look at each other and an onverwheling _need_ to kiss him takes over. Not because she’s never done it before (she has, many times), but because she wants him to be her midnight kiss, because she wants it to mean something somehow.

_Three!_

He holds her gaze, trying very hard not to look away despite Lauren’s efforts.

_Two!_

It’s not too late! If she ran through the crowd and knocked over a few glasses, she’d get to him in time and they could be together!

_One!_

She could swear he’s mouthing something to her before Lauren’s blond hair shields his face from Carrie’s. They’re kissing.

“Happy New Year’s, babe,” Jeremiah says, placing his hand on her cheek. She looks at him for a second before giving in to the kiss. It’s a pleasant kiss: slow and sweet. It almost feels like Harrison for a second.

 

January 1st 1988, 05:31 AM

There’s glitter on the floor after the party. Girls are carrying their shoes down in the lobby. Carrie steps on candle wax and polaroids on the hardwood floors. All remainders of the night before.

“I gotta go, babe,” Jeremiah says, kissing her cheek. “Thanks for the good time.” He winks at her. She doesn’t see it though, she’s too busy picking up bottles and putting them in a big, black plastic bag two bottles away from ripping apart.

“Bye,” she murmurs, through gritted teeth.

She proceeds to keep cleaning up the apartment, just the bare minimum just so she won’t wake up to a complete war zone.

 _Alone at last,_ she happily thinks to herself.

Then, inside the kitchen comes a loud, _clank_ noise.

“Hello?” she calls out. She thought everyone had left already! “Who’s there?” she presses, walking further down the hallway.

A disheveled Harrison rushes out the door and holds up his hands. “Just me, sweetheart.”

“Oh, it’s you,” she whispers, walking past him and into the kitchen. “Wait,” she stops. “What are you still doing here?” she frowns, confused. _And where’s Lauren?_

“Well, my question is where the hell is Jason or Geraldo or whatever his name is,” he mocks, picking up a cloth and cleaning up his mess on the counter.

“Whatever in the world do you mean?” she leans against the refrigerator, pressing her fingers to her head, soothing her god-awful migraine.

“Your… the guy you were with!” he finally blurts out. “He should be helping you clean up this mess of house you got here.” Harrison gestures around the obviously messy kitchen. _Wait until you see the living room. Ha!_

“Jeremiah!” she exclaims. “He just, he had to leave because he has to work and get some sleep-“ Harrison cuts her off.

“He has to work on January first?” he laughs, continuing his thorough process of collecting trash and filling up the plastic bags.

“Okay, maybe not work, but I’m sure he told me something about driving up to see his family or something…” Carrie feels the crushing need to justify Jeremiah to Harrison, embellish him or something.

“Whatever makes ya sleep at night,” Harrison shrugs, his back turned to Carrie.

“Hey, that’s enough!” she shoots back. “You don’t hear me attacking Lisa or whatever her name was!”

“I’m not attacking anyone, I’m merely stating a fact.” Harrison defends himself. “Just saying, if you were my girl I’d never leave you on New Year’s with the house in this state.” Carrie crosses her arms, that’s really something she can’t argue with. “And you know her name is Lauren.” He puts down another bag full of empty bottles on the ground and it falls with a loud noise.

“Well, thanks for the help but I need to get some sleep anyway.” She lies. “I’ll clean up in the morning.”

Harrison turns around and faces her, leaning up against the marble counter: “No.”

She uncrosses her arms and crosses them again. “What do you mean _no_?”

“I’m not leaving until this house is livable again.” He states, narrowing his eyes. She does the same thing back at him, this petty fight becoming way too childish for both of them.

“Harrison, this is not up for discussion.” She says. “You’re leaving. Now.” She points at the door, verge on livid.

“Suit yourself, I’m just gonna finish up the kitchen first.” He smiles, turning around and getting back to work.

“You’re impossible,” she gives up, stomping to the living room and resuming her bottle-picking and sweeping.

After a few minutes of utter silence, just the noise of the street down below lulling them into the late hours, Harrison walks into the living room.

“You’re still not done?” he nods disapprovingly, taking the empty cups with him back to the kitchen.

“This is ridiculous, Harrison!” Carrie shouts. “I bet Lauren’s mad at you for staying!”

He hears her. He definitely ignores her too.

As he walks back into the living room, she hears him fumbling behind her with the stereo.

“What are you doing?” she asks, tired as ever.

“Don’t you ever just shut up and enjoy the moment?” he teases, taking three big strides in her direction. _Every breath you take_ starts playing softly and he takes away her mop.

“Come on, dance with me.” He charmingly coaxes her, taking her into his arms. She melts onto him.

They dance. She leans into his chest, her small frame fitting with his large one perfectly. The song changes, but it’s alright. Both of them don’t move to switch it off, they just sway along to whatever comes on. _This is nice_ , she reflects. _Being with Harrison like this, so innocently_. Truth be told, even though they’d part ways a long time ago (at least romantically), there wasn’t any reason for them not to be friends. Hell, he _was_ one of her dearest friends. They’d known each other for more than ten years now and if that didn’t show strength in a relationship, Carrie didn’t know what would. Harrison, her on-set crush, on-location lover, out-of-the-country boyfriend and now best friend. _Friendship feels so nice_.

Then, she feels him gripping her arm firmly. She looks up.

He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it a heartbeat later. She observes him through her eyelashes and softly runs a hand along his back, as if inciting him to speak.

“Whatever is happening, this _thing_ that we’re doing here,” he whispers, for just them to know. “You, me, I’m in.” he finishes, caressing her hair. “I’m all in.”

She smiles and falls back against his chest again. _Yes, very nice_. Because, here’s what your friends or your mom or even Cosmo doesn’t tell you: you might long for the perfect midnight kiss with the perfect guy, but who’s worth living another year for is not the perfect guy with the perfect midnight kiss.

It’s for the man who picks up the bottles with you on new year’s day.


End file.
